


about as close as you dare

by teenagegiles



Category: The Smiths
Genre: Come Eating, Dirty Talk, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism, enjoy, kind of im just kink shaming Johnny, pretty much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:03:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21590443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenagegiles/pseuds/teenagegiles
Summary: Johnny and Morrissey waking up together. Some helpful boundaries.
Relationships: Johnny Marr/Morrissey
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	about as close as you dare

**Author's Note:**

> title from feel the pain by dinosaur jr...

Morrissey wakes up to the sun shining on his face, and with somebody else in bed with him. 

The sun shines through the blinds, creating neat little lines falling over the man’s face. His hair is messy, but barely more anymore than usual. Morrissey reaches out to trace over one of the lines, fingertips brushing over soft skin. 

He’s not used to this yet. He’s not used to being so intimate, being able to stare so freely, to touch. It brings him insufferable joy to know that he can, and yet, he is still nervous. 

“Moz?” Johnny stirs, and Morrissey quickly pulls his hand back. He doesn’t know why he’s so worried, but he succumbs to his instincts anyway. 

Johnny rolls over with a drowsy little grin on his face. He reaches over to pull his hand back, holding it with his for a moment, comfortable in the warmth that’s radiating off him. He seems so natural, already, like he’s done this for years. Morrissey’s brain short circuits. Johnny’s hands almost feel hot to the touch. 

He stares for a moment, eyes darting between Johnny’s, and then he speaks. “Uhm.” He says pointedly. “Goodmorning.”

If Johnny notices his awkwardness, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he laughs softly, and Morrissey can feel his breath ghosting over his thumb. “Goodmorning,” he replies, and somehow it sounds so much better coming from him. 

Johnny shuffles closer, close enough to drape his leg over Morrissey’s. He draws his hand to his mouth and looks up at him, into him. Johnny’s eyes are locked on his and it makes him feel like he’s drowning, or melting, or some odd, pleasant combination of the two. He kisses the jaunt edge of his first knuckle, then the second, and Morrissey doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath. 

He feels exposed. This beautiful creature is watching him, kissing his hand, and he hasn’t got some oversized dress shirt or a hopeless romantic shtick to hide behind. His breath gets stuck in his throat as Johnny takes his thumb into his mouth for a minute, leaving it slick with spit. His tongue presses up against his fingerprint, and his teeth scrape his fingernail as he lets him go.

Morrissey enjoys this. Johnny’s looks so eager, and he’s the only person he’s ever wanted to please. But he feels stuck, trapped in molasses, the golden boy unable to move. 

Before he knows it, Johnny’s kissing him. He can feel his breath catch in his throat, his heart in his chest, all the things the cheesy romance novels list off. It starts him into action, realizing suddenly that he wants this, he wants Johnny’s lips on his again, he wants him _closer._

He gives in. He wraps his arms around Johnny’s waist, forces their lips together with a foreign vigor. Johnny’s lips turn up into a smile, and when he finally pulls back he can see a stupid little glint in his eyes. “God, c’mere,” he mumbles. 

Johnny pushes him back into the mattress, palm digging into his shoulder in a way he didn’t know could feel good. He’s small, but the weight of his thighs wrapped around his hips when he climbs on top of him drives Morrissey partially insane. He takes in a wheezing breath before Johnny meets him halfway with another kiss. 

He’s swept off his fucking feet. Johnny’s running his hand through his hair just rough enough to make it sting, and his teeth keep on accidentally clashing against his lips, but it’s good. 

Johnny’s little kisses move from his lips and down to his neck, leaving Morrissey panting. He feels flushed, he’s suddenly aware of how out of control he’s being and swallows hard. “Fuck,” he says pointedly. 

Morrissey has tried to control everything in his life. Self control turned self flagellation over and over again. Indulgence to him is insanity. It’s too much. His hand finds a hold in Johnny’s hair and he tugs to ground himself. 

“Mm,” Johnny vocalizes, muffled from being pressed so close. “You enjoying yourself?” 

Johnny sits back up to look at him face to face, glancing over his bitten up lips and fucked up quiff. His lover looks pained. “Stop,” Morrissey finally says, voice hoarse. 

Johnny’s face falls. “Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?”

Morrissey is unsure of if he should shake his head or nod, because yes, he is rather alright, and Johnny didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just overwhelming. 

“I’m alright,” he clarifies, his hand running over the soft fabric of Johnny’s shirt and stopping to play with the hem. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Johnny pauses, at a momentary loss. His eyes search deep into Morrissey’s to find an answer. “Is it too much?” He asks. 

Morrissey nods rather sheepishly. He does love this, deeply, but he can’t simply give himself over like that. He had to stop it before it got too far, he reasons. 

He looks away, eyes wandering off to the cracks in the ceiling and other such nonsense. “I do really enjoy this.” 

Johnny folds himself over, presses himself to Morrissey’s chest and leaves a few more kisses on his collarbone before setting his head down. “I do too. It’s okay,” he says. 

Morrissey thinks for a moment. There’s never once been anyone he’s wanted to be with so badly. He likes the feeling of Johnny’s eyes and mouth on him very, very much. He breaths in before he makes a decision.

“Maybe we could try something else,” he begins, voice strained. He’s unsure himself, but he wants to give himself over. Even if it’s a little at a time. 

Johnny visibly perks up. “What do you have in mind?” 

“Maybe-“ Morrissey gets the better of himself, cuts himself off. Johnny encourages him by leaving his hands to rest against his skin, under his shirt, and Morrissey blushes again. “Maybe you could watch?” He forces out. 

Johnny sits up straight with a look that says he’s either absolutely enamored or deranged. He’s biting his lip so hard Morrissey’s genuinely concerned. “You want to put on a show for me, then?” 

Morrissey grins, lightly pushing him off. “Don’t say it like that, or you’ll get nothing.” 

“Can’t help it,” Johnny mumbles, kissing him once more and continuing to curl up next to him. “You look so pretty, y'know. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like, if I could watch you properly on stage every night.” 

Morrissey’s breath catches in his throat once more, and his hands stutter as they move to unbutton his shirt. Johnny assists him in pulling it off before dramatically whipping it across the room. Seconds pass before Johnny’s hands are on him again, exploring lightly, dragging over his skin. 

Morrissey looks over at him, but Johnny seems to be so engulfed that he doesn’t even notice. Spurred on, Morrissey’s hands travel down to play with the waistband of his pajamas. 

He’s so close, Johnny can’t help himself. He reaches up to press a bruising kiss to Morrissey’s neck, smiles at the sharp breath he hears as a result. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Morrissey’s hand slip down under the worn elastic of his boxers. 

Morrissey goes red as soon as his hand is on his dick, he moans softly before he can help it. It’s verging on embarrassing, but Johnny is still watching him hungrily. 

“There you go, baby,” he encourages, nipping at his collarbone. “Come on, show me,” 

Morrissey pushes down his pajamas and boxers to Johnny’s request, trying and failing to hide his blush. He strokes himself tentatively, breathing uneven. His eyes fall back to the ceiling. 

“Here.” Johnny reaches out to grab his wrist and pulls it towards himself, despite Morrissey’s whines. He brings his hand to his mouth, licks it clean and wet and lets him return to what he was doing. Morrissey watches, sighing appreciatively. 

He starts slow. He’s hesitant, but Johnny’s warm breath ghosting over his neck and his eyes deadest on him only encourages him. He relaxes into the mattress, whimpering quietly as he drags his thumb over a particular part. 

Johnny is absolutely fascinated. He can’t seem to shut himself up, he just wants to see Moz absolutely wrecked. “Fuck,” he says ineloquantly, “you’re so hot. I want- I want to see you, all bothered for me…” 

Morrissey’s eyes wander to meet Johnny’s and a sound his ripped from the back of his throat, cut off by the feeling of Johnny’s mouth on his neck again. He bites, just slightly, but it’s enough to make Morrissey buck up into his hand with a low moan. Johnny’s leaving bruises, marking him all up. The idea of it only spurs him on. 

He gets a rhythm down before long, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to keep up with himself. He’s all too messy and sensitive, he hasn’t done this in forever, and Johnny watching makes him warm all over. He’s practically writhing, knees knocking together uncomfortably. “Johnny,” he pants out. 

Johnny props himself up on his elbow, pushing Morrissey’s sweat slicked hair back out of his eyes. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he says, voice full of adoration. 

He’s reaching his end, he can tell. He reaches up with his spare hand to force Johnny’s mouth onto his, kissing him open and wet. Another moan is ripped out of him, and Johnny takes the chance to bite at his lip he swears he can almost feel blood. 

Johnny tangles his hand in his lover’s hair, repositioning himself to whisper into his ear. “Are you gonna come for me?” 

Morrissey can’t find it in him to speak properly, so he nods frantically, letting out another whine. 

“Do it, baby. Show me.” 

Johnny’s words in his ear drive him over the edge. He bucks violently up into his hand one last time, lifting his hips off the bed. He almost can’t remember to breath, trying desperately to get air back into his lungs. He works himself, shaking through the aftershocks. 

As he finally comes down, he finds Johnny’s eyes again. His lips are pulled into a wide grin, a proud glint in his eyes. “Good. You did so good,” he mumbles out, kissing him deeply. 

Morrissey can’t help but smile back. He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. Johnny rests his head on his shoulder, cuddling into him. 

“God, baby,” Johnny hums, dragging his fingers over Morrissey’s stomach, where his come his still smeared. “Messy, aren’t you?” 

Morrissey blushes again- he can’t help it- and feels the need to push Johnny off but before he can their eyes meet. Morrissey watches as Johnny licks his fingers clean. 

Johnny must’ve seen Morrissey’s eyes glaze over, because he smirks and kisses him one last time before lying back down. Morrissey can taste himself on his lips. 

“Did you like it?” He wonders aloud. 

“Very much.” Johnny replies, curling up into his figure. 

Morrissey pauses to think for another moment.

“Do you want anything?” 

He can vaguely feel Johnny shake his head. “Later. You’re all I wanted to see.”

**Author's Note:**

> i haven’t written porn in literal years. whatever. proof reading is for the weak and the smart, of which i am neither. hope u enjoy.


End file.
